Ripped Apart
by Khaleesi Khupcakes
Summary: I hate myself for writing this. R&R, y'all know the drill... T for violence, sex and language.
1. Bled Dry

**Ripped Apart.**

**Wow, how original of me, another stand-alone Bradgenta fic. I suck. Oh, and look, angst, cutting, depression... Magenta is mentally fucked and Brad is about as supportive as a character in a soap opera! I've never done _that_ before... Anyway, this is a threeshot. So... I guess that is okay... you won't have to suffer in silence. Try to enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Bled Dry.**

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><p>Brad was morbidly unsure what his life was coming to. Janet was an unfaithful little skank, Frank probably knocked him up, (if that was possible...) and the rest of the people in the castle were a bunch of psychopathic assholes, one of them wasn't even a real person... So, for the moment, Brad was running through the corridors, screaming like a... thing that screams. A lot. Brad only stopped screaming when he heard the sound.<p>

It was a strangled moan at first, it drifted between that and fast, shallow breathing. Brad didn't care at first. He was too terrified too care and he felt extremely violated. Especially considering the way he was dressed, but then he remembered, what if it was Janet? What if she was hurt and scared? What if she needed him? Then he remembered what she had done. She had broken her promise to save herself for him. Brad began to walk farther down the hall until he heard a loud crash and an anguished sob of 'Fuck!.' Brad paused. It was the F-word that always got him. Janet never said it, he said it on occasion and the creeps in this shitbox of a castle cursed religiously. But Brad had never heard anybody crying like that. Only once, when his grandmother died, and that was an indicator that something was very, _very_ wrong.

Brad's mind reeled, what if someone was dying? Brad couldn't just let something like that happen... He would never be able to push it from his memory if he just... let somebody die!

"I will _not_ stand by and let this happen!" Brad barked at himself, "Or my name isn't Brad Majors, which... it is..." Brad listened for the sound of the weeping, it was coming from a black wooden door, Brad gently turned the handle and opened the door,

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" Brad walked farther into the room, he found a few bras strewn around, some eyeliner, fashion magazines, but most disconcerting of all, the tiny river of blood leading from the bed to the bathroom, nobody was in the bed, Brad followed the trail and was shocked when he saw the source of the noise,

The maid was leaning against the tile wall of the washroom with makeup streaming down her face and a deep gash in each of her forearms. Her thick hair was tangled and matted with blood. For whatever reason, Brad couldn't remember her name. It was some kind of colour... Cyan, Rose, Violet, he was on the right track...

"Magenta?" She looked up, seething.

"I don't want you in here." she snapped, slamming her head against the wall a few times before she grabbed a razor off the lip of the bathtub and jabbed in into her flesh, wincing at first and finally exhaling heavily, as if relieved,

"Have you been cutting yourself?"

"Are you writing a book?" Magenta tried to stand up but fell back against the wall again, she bit her lip and lowered herself to the ground, hiding her face in her knees. Brad walked over to her, he felt a strong urge towards her, like when he had first met Janet, before she was a disgusting little tramp. This time it was stronger, Magenta was vulnerable, she had a more interesting look than Janet, her eyes and hair weren't the same colour, Magenta was painfully beautiful- Brad couldn't think that way. He was turning into Janet! He slapped himself on the leg and sat down next to Magenta and put a tentative, semi-comforting arm around her, she flinched away,

"Are you sick?" she shook her head, "Traumatized?" no, "Sexually frustrated?"

"Don't say that." Magenta hissed as Brad took hold of her right arm,

"Here, I'll help you up." Brad pulled Magenta up by her waist before she could protest, "I'll dress your wounds."

"No. Not after what happened with Janet." she stated, "I can dress them myself. Why are you even interacting with me? I know what you are, you're a priveleged, bi-curious, dominant male specimen, who gets more action in a week than I've had my entire life, right? Why would someone like you even want anything to do with a servant like me. You're just as bad as Frank." Brad backed off, Magenta lay down on her bed, the blood ran onto her sheets and saturated the fabric. God, she was a bitch.

"You know, if you don't want any help, I can just leave."

"That'd be amazing if you could." Brad backed towards the door, his eyes never strayed from Magenta's icy green glare.

...

Brad continued down the hallway, thinking Magenta's words over in his head, she didn't know him, she didn't know anything whatsoever about him, how dare she make a comment like that? He wasn't as bad as Frank, he was sure of that, he wasn't even on the same level as that sick man-whore... her bizarre soliloquy haunted him for the rest of the night until he saw her again.

**-_TO BE CONTINUED-._**


	2. Beaten into Submission

**Ripped Apart.**

**Wow, how original of me, another stand-alone Bradgenta fic. I suck. Oh, and look, angst, cutting, depression... Magenta is mentally fucked and Brad is about as supportive as a character in a soap opera! I've never done _that_ before... Anyway, this is a threeshot. So... I guess that is okay... you won't have to suffer in silence. Try to enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Beaten Into Submission.**

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><p>Well, Janet had been discovered. Perfect. Brad was officially done with her, maybe he wouldn't be so ashamed of how he had touched Magenta just a few minutes before, he was about to go to dinner when he heard the crying again. Someone was hurt. Brad searched for the source of the sound, eventually settling on a door that was leaning slightly open, he heard a loud <em>whack<em>, and the sobs persisted, Brad looked into the crack between the door and the wall to see Magenta (again) kneeling on the floor while Frank stood over her, one of his hands was covered in her blood and the other hand was holding a whip, Magenta's dress was even more torn and bloody than before. Brad let the door creak open and Frank looked up,

"Am I intruding?" Brad inquired quietly,

"Not at all." Frank remarked as he left, Magenta stayed silent until Brad walked over to her,

"Please just go away."

"What did he do?" Brad lightly touched the wounds that had been ripped into the fabric of her dress, her hand shot up and before he knew it, Brad had blood dripping from his nose, Magenta turned around,

"I'm sorry, it's an instinct, where I grew up-"

"It's fine." Magenta stood up and held her hands under his nose,

"Disgusting. You're spraying blood everywhere."

"I could say the same for you!" Magenta smirked,

"Don't push it." She got up and dried her hands on her apron,

"Let me see your back."

Magenta turned around and scoffed incredulously, "Never mind!"

"I'm serious, it looks like it hurts."

"It's not your problem, okay?" Magenta started to take a step forward but stopped,

"Now it's my problem."

"Brad, it's fine. I appreciate you trying to help, but it isn't necessary, okay?"

"Fine." Brad stood up and gently pulled her dress aside, revealing deep cuts that had been beaten into her flesh with the whip,

"You just said fine!"

"Sorry, I just-"

"I'm leaving. Goodbye." Magenta tripped out of the room and downstairs. Brad stood stationary. He'd said fine but didn't mean it.


	3. Reassembled at Last

**Ripped Apart.**

**Wow, how original of me, another stand-alone Bradgenta fic. I suck. Oh, and look, angst, cutting, depression... Magenta is mentally fucked and Brad is about as supportive as a character in a soap opera! I've never done _that_ before... Anyway, this is a threeshot. So... I guess that is okay... you won't have to suffer in silence. Try to enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: Re-assembled at Last. Check it out! I published the last two chapters both in one afternoon!**

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><p>Brad had almost no idea what had happened that night, it was a blur of crossdressing, aliens, artificial intelligence, and Columbia's voice could shatter <em>anyone's<em> eardrums. But Magenta was gone. It was like a one-night stand, but the kind that left an effect. He and Janet were going back to their apartment, Magenta was a whole bunch of lightyears away already...

That was when he saw the person.

It was a person in a ripped dress that was singed in places. The right leg was bleeding heavily as the person trudged through the rubble. The person had a delicate build and wasn't very tall. The person's hair was messy and burned. And _red_.

Brad started toward the person. The person saw him and began to walk faster, Brad noticed the black dress. The hair, eyes, lips and heels. Brad started to run. Magenta stopped and her hair started to whip her face, the red curls rippled against the blackened sky and her lips parted, Brad stopped when he reached her. There was an awkward silence, which Brad broke,

"I- I thought you'd gone."

"Our engine... Our engine broke down." Magenta's eyes began to fill with tears, which cut little clean tracks down her soot-covered and bloody face.

"Magenta, please listen to me. I know this hasn't been a very good night for either of us, but I have something I have to say to you."

"I'm ready for whatever you have to say."

"Remember, earlier tonight, when I saw you? Well, I need to tell you something that's been on my mind since then."

"Go on, please."

"I have... feelings. For... You."

"What kind of feelings?"

"Magenta-" Brad swallowed his words and pressed his lips against Magenta's. He felt her back arch against his hands as he wrapped them around her slender waist, he detached and she inhaled, for a second, Brad thought she was going to be mad at him, instead she smiled and looked down, glancing up at him through her long black lashes, that were beaded with tears. Her glossy red lips gently mouthed his name before she leaned into his chest. Brad could feel her heavy breathing resonating against him. He was still wearing his clothes from the floorshow but had luckily had time to grab his clothes and glasses before he left, they were in the car.

The kiss that followed clocked a record-breaking six minutes. Brad had never been a mouth-breather (contrary to belief) and Magenta had probably done this before. Even after that they stood together, silent, in the middle of the rubble before Brad and Magenta re-entered the castle. In short, it was time for hot sex.


End file.
